


I Feel It in the Air

by inevitablethief



Series: The Boys of Summer [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Artist Sarah Blake, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Endgame Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Good Brother Gabriel, Graduate Student Sam, M/M, Miscommunication, No Castiel/Sam Winchester, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Past Dean Winchester/Nick Munroe, Past Infidelity, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Running, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Waiter Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11418348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitablethief/pseuds/inevitablethief
Summary: Sam has a bad day, eats a burger, and makes a new friend.Cas gets a job and has a misunderstanding.Sarah tries to achieve her dreams.And Dean just wants his little brother to mind his own business.





	1. A Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3 of an epic Destiel AU WIP. If you're reading [The Boys of Summer](http://archiveofourown.org/series/470368) series and are curious about how Sam and Cas met and became friends, then this is for you! It's set two years before Part 2, _[I'm Gonna Get You Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8527537/chapters/19547551)_ , but it's intended to be read between Chapters 13 and 14 of that work. Coincidentally (or not), this work is being posted in its entirety before chapter 14 of that work will be posted. So, if you're currently reading Part 2, you can read every update of this work, then go back to IGGYB when Chapter 14 is posted. You can read the note on chapter 13 for more information on that. This work contains spoilers for the first 13 chapters of IGGYB!

Downtown LA traffic made Sam Winchester understand road rage. Some asshole cut him off for the fourth time, and he’d missed his exit six times. Finally, he got into the right lane, and took the next exit to wherever the hell it led.

His stomach let out an angry growl. It had been hours since breakfast, and the snacks his classmate had promised at their study session had turned out to be cold chili cheese fries and lukewarm beer. He was almost never downtown, as he lived, worked, and went to school to the northeast in Pasadena, so he didn’t even know where he was, let alone where to grab a bite to eat. He pulled over so his GPS could reconfigure a route home, and he turned into a parking lot to turn around when he realized it was a restaurant. _Revelation_ , the sign read, and his stomach gave another roar. It looked like some sort of modern bistro, and they’d probably have salads, maybe a burger, even though the prices would be astronomical. He was hungry enough to pay for it. 

They were still open for lunch, and, as he walked into the foyer, he found the place welcoming and gently bustling. Since it was late, they were only about half full, so he was seated immediately by a pretty young woman about his age at a small table near the kitchen. She handed him a menu and headed back to her station. As he perused it, he found his predictions about the menu correct, but the prices were much more reasonable than he had expected. A title at the top described it as the Fall Menu, which was definitely a good sign. There was a carrot-ginger bisque, buttermilk fried chicken, a burger topped with brie, a chicken tartine garnished with pickled vegetables, and a pear and endive salad he was definitely going to get.

He had just set down his menu when his waiter arrived. The guy was definitely the actor type that Sam saw all around LA, but his eyes were unnervingly blue with an intensity that was usually lacking in the casual city. He got a few appreciative looks from a table of women nearby, as he poured water from a pitcher into a stemmed glass on the table. Sam got it, even though he didn’t appreciate it the same way; Dean would have gone nuts for the guy’s chiseled jaw and messy, dark hair.

“Hello, I’m your server. Would you like to hear today’s specials?” His rusty voice was as rumbly as Sam’s stomach, deep and rough.

“Sure,” Sam answered, even though he’d already made his decision.

“We have a roasted Romanesco salad, a butter roasted sablefish with tomato water, and at last count, we have ten Thursday burgers left.”

“Thursday burgers?”

The waiter let out a low chuckle. “The chef’s special recipe. It’s topped with garlic butter, roasted tomato, avocado, and house-made fried onion strings with aioli on a brioche bun. It’s our signature dish.”

“Sounds rich.”

The waiter laughed again. It was a nice sound, like he was a guy who didn’t laugh a lot, but should. “That’s the point. Something indulgent to get you through to the weekend. Not to try and push it since we’re almost out, but it’s a life-changing burger—literally.”

The intensity in his gaze was disconcerting, but Sam still found himself liking the guy, and his pitch for the burger was definitely working its magic. “I should try the burger, shouldn’t I?”

“You should definitely try the burger. I’ll put in the order now and come back for your drink.”

He disappeared towards the kitchen, so Sam perused the menu again. They had a fully stocked bar, so maybe he’d get a beer to go with his mid-week splurge, or at least one of the artisanal sodas they stocked. From his seat, he could hear the bustle of the kitchen, dishes clanging and fire flaring. His server still hadn’t returned, so he hoped that did not mean they had run out of burgers. He’d have to come back next Thursday earlier in the day to try one. Actually, he and Sarah were long due a romantic night out. If the food was as good as he suspected it was going to be, perhaps he’d bring Sarah back for a nice dinner.

“Get the fuck off the phone!” came a voice from the kitchen. It was loud enough that the other guests around him also turned to look.

“Gabe, it’s Adler.” He recognized the distinct voice of his server.

“Holy shit!” the first voice shouted.

Sam spotted his server and a shorter, lighter haired man leave the kitchen, but they disappeared into the darkness of the hallway where Sam couldn’t see them any longer. He could hear them, however. His server was on the phone with someone, but his side of the conversation was mostly made up of _yeahs_ and _I understands_.

“Well,” the other asked, an obvious note of anxiousness in his voice.

“I got it,” the server said. 

The other voice let out a pterodactyl screech, then repeated the news in a gleeful shout to the rest of the kitchen, which erupted in cheers. It was a strange thing; usually the happy events happened in the dining room and the staff were left to stare around awkwardly while others celebrated.

Several minutes passed before Sam saw his server again.

“I’m sorry for the delay. Your burger is reserved. Would you like to start with a bowl of soup or one of our other starters, or shall I have the kitchen begin cooking?”

“Could I get a half size of the pear-endive salad to start?” Sam asked tentatively. 

“Yes, of course.” Whatever the phone call he’d received had been about, whatever he had _got_ , it had resulted in a lightness in his manner that hadn’t been there before. “Will water suffice, or would you like a beverage from the bar?”

“What beers do you have on tap?”

“We have El Sol and Shultz, and Violent Moose IPA.”

“Did you say _violent moose_?” Sam choked out through laughter.

“Yes. Is that funny?” The server tilted his head and squinted his eyes. He looked like a confused baby bird.

“My brother says I’m a moose.”

“Why?”

“I probably grew a foot while he was away at college, and he came home for the summer to find me all long limbs and no coordination. So I became a moose.”

“Moose are actually extremely graceful—and excellent swimmers.” He seemed to realize the awkwardness of his comment and self-consciously straightened out his black uniform. “Would you like a Violent Moose, then? All bar drinks are half price for the next hour.”

“Happy hour?”

“A celebration—good news.” His manner changed again and a blush rose to his tanned cheeks.

“The phone call?”

“Yes.” He could barely hide his smile, which made him look younger. He was probably a few years older than Sam, maybe Dean’s age, but the happiness nearly radiating through him made him look like a kid on Christmas.

“What was that all about?” Sam carefully asked.

Another change in comportment surprised Sam. His waiter became closed off and suspicious. “You’re not an industry insider or anything are you?”

“What? No, I’m a grad student at Cal Tech.”

“Impressive,” he said, raising his eyebrows and returning to his barely-contained joy. “I booked an acting job—a guest star, recurring. I wouldn’t be caught dead watching the show, but this is my first big break.”

“What show?”

“A dumb, overwrought hospital drama, but it’s a three episode arc. I…I’m lucky.”

His description, obviously intended to downplay his success, only piqued Sam’s curiosity. Dean definitely watched one of those shows; he had a crush on the cowboy boot wearing doctor. “Dr. Sexy?” he guessed outloud.

“Oh God, you don’t watch it, do you?”

“No, no, but my bro—my friend—does. Obsessed with it.” 

“Oh, I…I’m…there may be nudity involved. You and your friend probably want to skip that episode.”

Sam imagined that Dean would probably enjoy seeing this good-looking guy without many clothes on. Probably more than enjoy. There was something about this guy, from his brilliant blue eyes to his deadpan sense of humor, that had Sam thinking that he was someone Dean would really like. If Dean would only get his ass out to California, he could meet nice guys like this.

“Okay,” Sam laughed. “What’s your name so I can tell him who to look out for.”

“Uh, Jamie. Jamie Milton.”


	2. Three Is Not a Magic Number

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, it's entirely a coincidence that I get to posting another chapter of this just after DCBB drafts were due. Okay, that's a lie. I've been working nonstop to get my draft done, and I haven't had time for anything else. Getting this chapter posted was the first thing on my post-draft to-do list after getting a good night's sleep.

Sam was still thinking about his burger when Sarah came home late from the gallery. It had been better than promised, lush and juicy and rich. Sam had walked right up to the hostess and made reservations for Friday night. When he went back to his table, his server, Jamie, had been replaced by another guy. When Sam looked for the missing waiter, he found him seated at a table with his own Thursday burger. The same short guy who had been there for his phone call, was standing by his side, affectionately ruffling his hair. Jamie gave him a little wave as he finished paying his bill, so he slipped a few extra dollars in for the tip. 

Sarah settled onto his lap, and nestled into his arms. She smelled like turpentine, like she used to when they’d first met and she was painting whenever she had free time. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked, snuggling into her neck and kissing the soft skin there.

Her eyes widened and she pulled away to look at him. “I have to work. Why?”

“I made reservations at a restaurant,” he shrugged. “I stopped off for lunch after my study session, and the food was fantastic. I thought—you’ve been working so hard, you deserved a break.” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but he knew he should have consulted her before making plans.

“Oh,” she mumbled, lost in thought. “I guess I can get Louise to cover things if it’s important to you.”

He showed her exactly how important it was to him with a long deep kiss. There was no talk of galleries or grad school as they made love all night long.

* * *

Revelation was packed for dinner; they waited in a line five deep for the hostess. There were hip trendsetters standing next to staid businessmen, standing next to groups of middle-aged women who’d probably get labeled cougars for their revealing skin-tight dresses—Sam moved closer to Sarah for safety as one of their number slid her gaze over his body. 

“Can we be seated in Jamie’s area?” he asked the hostess when it was their turn.

“Who?” she asked with her mouth in a surprised O shape.

“Tall guy, not as tall as me, big blue eyes, dark hair.”

“Oh, yeah, there’ll be a ten-minute wait for him. He’s pretty in demand.” She smirked, like this was a request they got a lot, eyeing the group of women milling around the foyer, and pointed Sam and Sarah to a half-filled bench to wait for him. After a full fifteen minutes, the hostess called their name and showed to their table.

“Uh, honey,” Sarah began, once they were seated. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Sam frowned at his girlfriend in incredulity. “Just give me your opinion on this guy, okay? The food will be worth it—I promise.”

“Welcome back,” Jamie said, as he approached their table to list the specials and take their drink orders. “If you came back for the burger, you’ll have to wait until next Thursday.”

“Nope, but, believe me, I will. This is my girlfriend, Sarah. We’re on a date.”

Jamie turned his attention to Sarah and gave her a long, lingering stare. Sam would have been pretty upset by the brazen appraisal if he weren’t overwhelmed by disappointment. Straight guys often don’t like it when you try and set them up with other guys.

“Then you might be interested in our prix fixe menu for two. For starter, your choice of a goat cheese and seasonal vegetable tart or a beet and walnut salad, our main course is a soux vide chateaubriand for two with peppercorn oil, warm egg yolk mayonnaise, confit potatoes, and micro greens. Alternatively, we have a sustainable black cod en papillote with a miso broth and maitake mushrooms, also for two, or we can substitute our vegetarian option, seared butternut squash with gnocchi and savory coconut flan. We have a wine pairing tasting menu that goes along with the selections, as well. Desserts are a walnut sponge cake with meringue and chocolate curd and a pear tart with elderberry syrup.”

Sarah’s mouth was hanging open. “Yes, please,” she managed to squeak out.

Jamie smiled a gummy smile, looking like a kid again, and he must have reminded Sam of someone he used to know, because the sight pulled at his heartstrings. Other than the obvious, of course. Sam hadn’t known Dean’s old friend Castiel very well, but he knew that every time a blue-eyed, dark haired guy—or girl, to be honest—crossed Dean’s path, he’d get a little starry-eyed and desperate. He’d definitely be interested in Jamie, if only Sam could get him out to LA.

Jamie took their drink orders and left them to make their decisions. Sarah whipped around to stare at Sam incredulously. “This is the guy you wanted to sit in the section of? Are you trying to tempt me into leaving you for a pretty boy wannabe actor?”

“How’d you know he was an actor?”

“It’s LA—everyone is an actor.”

“So you think he’s good looking?”

“Baby, he’s hotter than L.A. hot,” she laughed. 

“Do you think he’s straight?” Sam asked, feigning interest in his menu.

“He checked me out.”

“Yeah, I noticed. He didn’t check me out, though.”

“Maybe he did yesterday. Maybe you’re not his type. Chateaubriand?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Do you wanna split each starter and dessert?”

She made a point of closing her menu and dropping it to the table in a dramatic flourish. “Okay, so what’s the deal with the hottie and your big gay crush?”

“Dean.”

Her eyes opened wide in understanding. “Yeah, they’d make a cute couple,” she admitted. “But your brother lives on the other side of the country.”

“Not if he started dating the guy of his dreams who lived here. What’s keeping him in Philadelphia? Having Charlie nearby? That snobby school where he teaches? Gay bars? This is LA, he could dress in rainbows every day and still keep his job.”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. He may not be interested in guys; he may not be interested in Dean. He might be a serial killer—or worse, a bad actor. Shit, he’s back. Don’t be creepy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his girlfriend; Jamie caught the gesture as he approached.

“Disagreeing on your order? We do have our normal dinner menu available, as well, if you would prefer.”

“No, we’re good. Thanks. We’ll have the prix fixe with the beef, please.”

Jamie took down the rest of their order briskly and left. They weren’t alone for long, however, as the sommelier came with the first glass of wine from their wine pairing. When Jamie returned, he had two tiny plates that he placed on the table. “Amuse-bouche courtesy of the chef,” he announced coldly. “A raw oyster with green apple and radish mignonette and a champagne foam.”

“Sounds great.”

“Sounds like an aphrodisiac,” Sarah added with a snicker. 

Jamie closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, like he was holding back anger or something. “The chef thinks he’s a comedian. Please enjoy.”

He had turned to go tend to another customer or pick up plates from the kitchen, but Sam didn’t want to miss his opportunity.

“Uh, Jamie, wait”—Jamie spun around gracefully and fixed Sam with his unnerving stare—“we were, uh, wondering if you were single?” Sam stammered, his nervousness giving him away.

Jamie stiffened in surprise before bending over conspiratorially. “I thought that was what you were after. I, uh, don’t usually, go with customers. You’re not the first couple to ask, and you seem very nice, but I don’t want to come home with you.”

Sam found himself insulted despite the misunderstanding. “Why not?”

“You’re not my type.”

“Not your type because I’m a guy?”

Now Jamie looked insulted. “I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re a man or a woman or both or neither. You’re not my type because I’m not physically attracted to you."

“We don’t want to sleep with you,” Sarah interrupted. “Sam _definitely_ doesn’t want to sleep with you. He was wondering if you’d be interested in getting set up with his—“

“My friend. The one who likes Dr. Sexy.” No man wanted to be set up with some guy’s brother. Sam had learned that every time he’d tried this before. _Well, I’m straight, but you might like my bisexual brother_ doesn’t work, _ever_. Women, sure, once they knew Sam was taken, they’d be ready to leap on his better-looking brother, but not a single guy had ever taken the bait. He was much more likely to get a positive answer if Jamie didn’t know Dean was his brother.

Jamie had been in the midst of a relieved sigh at Sarah’s clarification, but he tensed up again at her suggestion that he be set up. “I don’t date. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in meeting your friend.”

“So you’re up for threesomes, but not blind dates?”

“Yes. I only engage in casual encounters. I’m not someone suited to romance, monogamy, relationships. I’m sure your friend is a lovely person, but I am not the one for them.”

“Yeah, sure—sorry to make you uncomfortable,” Sam stammered. 

“It’s not a problem. I’m very flattered. Enjoy your meal.”

Once he left, Sam let out a shaky sigh.

“The food better be fucking amazing after that,” Sarah said with a stony-faced glare.

“Yeah, okay,” he conceded. “I fucked that up pretty bad.”

Sarah picked up her raw oyster, and slurped it down in one inelegant bite. She swallowed around a moan. “Holy shit. Okay, Winchester, you’re forgiven.”


	3. I'm Not Who I Think I Am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, no warnings.

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief after he served dessert. Leaning against the wall in the hallway near the break room, he let the coolness seep through his bones. He wasn’t well suited to the service industry; he lacked the charm needed to be an effective waiter. Gabriel was kind to give Castiel a job between his acting gigs, but it wasn’t the best use of his talents. However, knowing that he was soon to leave, even if only for a few weeks, twanged at his heartstrings. After so many failed auditions, he was finally going to see his acting dreams come true.

The bartender passed by on her way for a smoke break, and let her eyes drift over Castiel’s body. He had so far avoided her advances, but she refused to give up. Fearful of her using his inactivity to try again, he went back in the kitchen to check on his tables’ orders and deliver the couple’s message to Gabe.

“Number 23 wants to send their compliments to the chef,” Cas said as he approached his brother at the stove.

“My favorite part of the evening,” Gabe joked, flipping a pan like the expert he was. “Hey, wait, isn’t 23 the table who wanted a threesome.”

Castiel groaned. “I was mistaken. They were hoping to set me up with a friend.”

“And I guess you said no.”

“I don’t want a lecture. You aren’t mother.”

“Thank God. Man or woman?” Gabriel continued his skillful sauté, tipping what was sure to be a perfectly cooked piece of meat onto a plate.

“I didn’t think to ask.” Gabriel erupted into raucous laughter, head thrown back and mouth open like a hyena. Castiel was perplexed. “It doesn’t make a difference to me, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re the next step of evolution.”

“I’ve never claimed that,” Cas snapped testily, rolling his eyes. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Gabe patted him on the back, then stepped away from his station, letting one of his subordinates take over. “Let’s go see my fans and get my accolades.”

Castiel followed his brother into the dining room, where the young couple were sharing their desserts. He tugged on his brother’s sleeve as they passed the drinks station. “Gabe, wait,” he said, remembering his spur of the moment decision the day before. “I told them my name was Jamie. They won’t know who Castiel is.”

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“The man was here yesterday when I got the phone call. Adler told me to practice answering to my stage name.”

“Adler is an idiot. There’s nothing wrong with your name.” They reached the table and Gabe turned on the charm. “I hear you liked everything,” he said to the couple. 

They had to put down their forks mid-bite to reply. “Are you the chef?” the woman asked unnecessarily.

“Chef/owner, actually, and there is nothing I like better than compliments, so hit me up.”

Castiel watched the couple stammer in confusion. Few people were prepared for Gabriel; the litmus test for working at Revelation was whether you could last five minutes with him. They cycled through kitchen staff at an alarming rate. 

“The food was great,” the guy said, his girlfriend nodding in agreement. “Really great.”

Gabriel threw his head back in uproarious laughter. “I love putting people on the spot like that,” he cackled. “Glad you enjoyed your food. Tip my little brother well, okay? God made him pretty for a reason.”

“Little brother?” the woman at the table repeated.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Cas sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Nepotism at its finest. Well, I’m going to go yell at someone in the kitchen. Have a nice night.”

He swept back to the kitchen, leaving Castiel standing there in awkwardness with the couple.

“Shall I get your bill?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, thanks for everything, Jamie.”

As he walked to the wait station to compile their bill, Castiel couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. Sometimes it seemed everyone wanted to sleep with him, or at least ogle him. Casual sex had always been easy to come by, but tonight had been the first time anyone had thought him worthy of dating someone they cared about. He’d turned it down on instinct, and he held to that decision, but he couldn’t help but wonder what possibilities he could have turned down.

He’d never been in a romantic relationship in his life. The trust and intimacy required between lovers and partners weren’t things he was capable of, even after years of therapy. He was too fucked up to be loved; he knew that. He’d accepted it years before. That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t wish he was different. For the first time in quite a while, he let himself think of Dean, not as the long-lost friend he’d abandoned and hoped to reconnect with someday, but as the long-lost love he’d never gotten to have.


	4. Running Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentioned past infidelity  
> Mentioned past Lisa/Dean  
> Mentioned past Dean/Nick Munroe (the siren)

Sam had often thought of his two meals at Revelation in the weeks that followed, but he hadn’t made it back yet. He’d found a carpool for his study sessions, so he didn’t have to brave LA traffic in his and Sarah’s only car. His internship and classes took up all of his time. He barely saw his girlfriend, let alone had time for a long, leisurely lunch or dinner. Every meal he sat down to—or, to be honest, stood for or drove during—he wished he was eating Chef Gabriel’s food.

He didn’t, however, spare much thought for the handsome waiter he’d met, Jamie. Once it became clear that Jamie wasn’t interested in meeting Dean, Sam put the other man out of his mind and moved on. Someday, Dean would meet someone and settle down; it was inevitable. If it was in Philadelphia, there wasn’t anything Sam could do about it. He wanted his brother nearby, sure, but he couldn’t make Dean do anything he didn’t want to do.

Sarah worked Saturdays, often getting ready for openings at the gallery, or cleaning up from openings at the gallery. Sam tried her phone, hoping to find out when she’d be home, but she wasn’t answering. After three failed attempts, he realized he’d probably frighten her once she checked her phone, so he rang the number at the gallery instead.

“Hello?” a female voice answered.

"Sarah?”

“No, this is Louise.”

“Hey, Louise, this is Sam Winchester, Sarah’s boyfriend, could you put her on?” Sam asked.

“I’m sorry, Sam, Sarah isn’t in today.”

“Yeah, she is,” Sam argued. “She told me she was off to work. Where the hell is she, then?”

“Beats me. We weren’t expecting her.” 

Louise hung up the phone without letting Sam get another word in. He was angry and worried. Where the hell did Sarah go if she hadn’t gone to work?

Sam was half out the door, ready to borrow a car from the neighbors when Sarah walked up the steps and nearly collided with him.

“Where have you been?” he growled.

“Work—I just got your calls.”

“I called work! They said you haven’t been in today.”

Sarah let out a resigned sigh. “I joined an art collective.”

“A what?” Sam asked, all the anger knocked out of him.

“I share studio space with a bunch of other artists. It’s cheaper that way, and I can still paint without digging into my salary or your stipend.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

She led him into the apartment with a gentle hand. “Baby, I just…this time is supposed to be about you achieving your dreams, and I want to do everything I can to help that happen. I thought I’d get my turn later, but…”

“You deserve a turn now,” Sam finished, feeling like the world’s worst boyfriend. 

“I’m sorry I’m being selfish.”

“I was the one being selfish.” He pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her turpentine-scented hair.

Their first fight led to their first makeup sex; it was a small apartment, but they made use of all the space they had. Once the afterglow had worn off, Sarah took Sam to her studio space, introducing him to the other artists who had rooms there. They decided to make use of some of the space, there, too, until someone knocked on the bathroom door a few too many times. 

Sam took the car, leaving Sarah to her work, and parked near Griffith Park. It was a beautiful Southern California Fall day, and he was going to make full use of his free time.

Sam continued up towards the observatory where the trail he was running on merged with another trail as they snaked uphill. A runner, coming from the other trail, advanced quickly on his right despite the steepness of the path. So quickly, in fact, that Sam had to swiftly veer to the left to avoid a collision.

“Sorry,” the other runner shouted as he zoomed past. He looked familiar, but it took Sam until the guy was several yards ahead to realize where he knew him from.

“Uh, Jamie?” he called out uneasily.

The other runner stopped and turned around, jogging in place as he took off his sunglasses and scrutinized Sam. 

Sam waved in greeting. “You served me a Thursday burger at your brother’s restaurant a couple of weeks ago. Then I came back for dinner the next night…”

“…and I thought you wanted a threesome,” Jamie finished.

“Heh, yeah. Sorry about that.” Sam jogged to catch up with him, and they started running—at Sam’s pace—side by side. He held out his hand at an awkward angle. “Sam Winchester.”

“Sam,” Jamie repeated. His pace had slowed so Sam could keep up with him, but they were still making great time on the difficult trail. The guy was fast.

“Hey, how is that acting job going?”

“I start filming Tuesday,” he said, letting out a long, anxious breath. “I had a costume fitting yesterday. It was interesting.”

“Don’t like your costume?”

“It looks like something I would have worn in my rebellious period. Ripped jeans, spikes—they want to dye my hair blue.”

“Wow.”

“I play a member of a band; it’s appropriate to his circumstances.”

“Sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, huh?”

There was a long silence from the other man. They could hear hikers, other runners, and the distant shouts of children playing over the steady rhythm of their footfalls. “Yes, I suppose,” Jamie finally muttered thoughtfully.

Sam thought it best to change the subject. “Man, that burger your brother makes—it’s from another world; I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“I’m surprised it’s as popular as it is. My brother credits that burger with the success of the restaurant. I suppose many people share my particular tastes.”

“Oh, is that your dish?” Sam was genuinely curious; he wondered if he was running beside a culinary genius.

“The recipe was created on my behalf. I had a…bad time, and my brother came to Los Angeles to take care of me. I hadn’t eaten regularly for a while, and so he created dishes suited to my palate that would nourish my body. Mushroom soup made with extra cream and buttered crackers, peanut butter and jelly that he’d make his own nut butters for, mixing in almonds and walnuts with the peanuts so I wouldn’t notice—the burgers were my favorite. He added them to the menu once he started his own restaurant, as a remembrance of my struggles. I have one every Thursday, so I don’t forget there are people who love me, like my brother.”

“Were you sick?” Sam asked. It was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help his curiosity.

Jamie slowed, and when Sam glanced over at him, his expression was dark and scrutinizing. After a moment of awkward silence, his face broke into a sly grin. “Sex, drugs—no rock n’ roll, however.”

They could see the observatory looming above them. Sam had been planning on staying there for a while, seeing a few of the exhibits. He’d just started interning at JPL, and he was, quite literally, starstruck. The prospect of someone to run with was nevertheless more alluring, so, as Jamie ran past it to meet up with another trail beyond the parking lot, Sam ran alongside him.

“Gabriel left his dream job, his girlfriend, his entire life behind to come and take care of his drug addict little brother,” Jamie continued. “I owe my life to him.”

“I know a bit about protective big brothers. My dad was pretty much shit, but my brother made sure he took the brunt of it.” Sam still had nightmares once or twice a year about the phone call from the hospital that John and Dean had been in a car accident. When he had gotten there with his step-mom and found Dean unconscious, hooked up to machines, and his dad with a bandage on his head and a broken arm, eating a steak dinner, he’d never felt such hatred. Dean hadn’t deserved anything their dad had laid on him.

“To coddled younger brothers, then,” Jamie said, holding out his water bottle for an impromptu toast. Sam unhooked his bottle from his waist pack and clinked them together.

“To younger brothers,” he agreed. “And the older brothers who take care of us.”

The conversation turned to other matters; they talked more about Jamie’s upcoming job on _Dr. Sexy_ , strange stories from his job as a waiter—most of them involving his brother—and Sam’s new coworkers at the Jet Propulsion Lab.

“I wish I hadn’t finished the last book I was reading,” Jamie mused. “I have to pick something new to read between scenes, but I don’t want to leave the other book behind.”

There was something wistful in his manner that reminded Sam of the way Dean talked about books, like they were people—friends. “What book?” he asked, thinking perhaps his brother might be interested in the book as well.

“ _The Failure of Sparrows_ ,” Jamie answered. “It’s a dystopian fantasy, and it’s utterly beautiful.”

The name was familiar to Sam, even though he knew he’d never read it. While Jamie waxed poetic about its themes of family and free will, Sam finally realized where he knew it from: Dean had read it and also loved it. That niggling impulse that had made him approach the idea with Jamie at the restaurant came back in full force, and Sam knew that Dean had to meet this guy. Lots of guys thought they weren’t relationship material until they found the one. 

“Do you read a lot?”

“There’s a lot of downtime in acting; it’s nice to have something to keep busy. Reading has always been a passion of mine. It’s something I shared with…someone very dear to me.”

They were heading towards the summit, and Sam couldn’t believe the steepness wasn’t effecting Jamie. He was running as if they were on flat land; the guy had to be in incredible shape.

“An ex?” Sam huffed.

“I suppose. The only person I’ve ever loved—romantically. I love my mother and my siblings, of course.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.” Sam took note that a father wasn’t included in the list, and filed that away as yet another point in Jamie’s favor. Sadly, he didn’t think Dean could ever be comfortable with someone who had a healthy relationship with their father.

Sam’s ringing phone interrupted their conversation. He had excellent cell reception as high as they were, so he answered.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean’s voice said clearly.

“Hey, man, just a second.” Sam slowed to a walk, Jamie stopped, jogging in place, about ten feet ahead of him. “Uh, Jamie!” he called, putting a hand over the phone. “Do you want to go ahead? I don’t want to interrupt your run. It’s my brother.”

“Yes, I think I will. It was nice to have the company, Sam.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Do you run here every Saturday?” Jamie nodded, still jogging in place. “Do you want some company? We could meet at that picnic ground on Fern Dale before the trail splits.”

“I’d like that.” Jamie checked his wrist watch to see the time. “6:30?”

“Sounds great.” Sam watched Jamie run off at a faster pace than the two had been running together. “Dean?” Sam said into the phone. He moved out of the way of hikers and other runners into the shade.

“Did I interrupt you and Sarah or something?”

“Nah. I’m in Griffith Park; that was a friend. Actually, you’d like him.”

“Sure, ‘cause I love all your dorky friends,” Dean joked. He sounded like he was in a good mood, which was a rare thing for him these days.

“No, I mean you’d _really_ like him, Dean,” Sam replied pointedly.

“ _Dude_ , it’s too soon.”

Sam leaned against a rock and watched the other people on the trail. “You didn’t even date Nick all that long. Stop moping,” he sighed.

“I don’t give a fuck about that douchebag, but, uh, we dated longer than I let you and mom believe.”

“How much longer?”

“Long enough that I had a good reason not to tell you.”

“You cheated on Lisa with that asshole?!”

“Things were already falling apart; she… It’s a long story, dude, and none of your freakin’ business. I think I got my just desserts, though, don’t you?”

"And now it’s time to let it go.” A dog on a leash came up to sniff him. The young couple walking him smiled as the dog nudged Sam for a pet. Sam poured a bit of his water along the side of the rock and let the dog lap it up. The couple thanked him and went on their way.

“I still don’t want to meet your friend.”

“He’s great, Dean. He even likes that weird book you’re always going on about. You don’t have to date him”—especially since Jamie had no interest in dating—“just make a new friend, and see where it goes. You should come out for Thanksgiving.”

“I can’t. I’m going to have a bunch of grading to do—big paper due the day before. Charlie will probably come up from D.C., and Andrea and Benny will come by. Sorry, Sammy.”

“Sure.” He shouldn’t have pushed. He just met Jamie; there was no reason to believe they’d be friends in a month simply because they made plans to run together next week.

Sam decided to walk the path back to the parking lot while they talked, and, maybe, he’d make that stop at the Observatory after all. Dean had called to brag about his new Halloween costume, though he wouldn’t tell Sam what it was. It was supposed to be some sort of a surprise, but Sam would only see it in the pictures the day after, so he didn’t see why it mattered. If only Dean would move closer. Deep in his heart, Sam knew that the key lay in the kinda weird guy he just spent the last twenty-five minutes with. Dean deserved to be happy; he couldn’t spend the rest of his life pining over his childhood best friend.

There was someone else out there for him, and Sam would help him find them.


End file.
